sand castles
by tinyvoice
Summary: AU fic. ?x4 I'm no good at summaries, please read it for yourselves
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing  
  
I got the idea for this after reading "Quatre and the Bandits" sorry, I forget who the author was. Don't worry, though, my fic doesn't follow hers to the letter. I just borrowed a few of the major points, in another chapter or so, you won't be able to tell I ever read her story^^; And, as for the rating of this story, I'm probably not going to hold faithful to it, so, as the chapters progress, don't flame me.  
  
Thank you  
  
  
  
  
  
Quatre had been riveted to one of his numerous books for a good portion of the trip to his home province, he had a strange fascination with contemporary genres that ranged from political satires to romantic scandal. His sister, Iria had kept up animated chit chat with him for the beginning of the journey and then was eventually lulled to sleep by the hypnotic thump of horse hooves on the soft dirt road, leaving Quatre to his own devices. She snored lightly accenting the air with an almost nostalgic touch of a mother that her younger brother never knew. Almost no wildlife was to be heard, since they had had ample time to make their escape due to the heavy sounds of a horse-drawn carriage heralding the coming of man.  
  
It was late afternoon by the time Quatre finally put down his book and had a look around his roomy accommodations. His limbs were a little sore from maintaining his erect reading posture for such an extended amount of time, so he slumped back and stared ahead of himself for a while. He focused and unfocused on the carved, ornate designs of the interior of the carriage. It was the picture of a jungle with hidden animals poking out of some inconspicuous fissure or shadow. Just staring at the forward wall could provide his idle mind with hours of entertainment. But, his gaze shifted and rested on the sleeping figure of his sister. Her strawberry blonde hair curled about her face in cottony wisps, her long dark lashes kissed her blushing cheeks, and her pinkish lips were set in a ludicrous frown that Quatre found positively endearing. She was leaned back into her little cushioned corner with all the ridiculous yards of fabric that made up her dress puffed about her and making her seem almost tiny. Her arms folded in front of her with her palms up as if in offering. And, that's one of the many things that Quatre had grown to associate with her. She was always giving. Always there, his kind, perfect sister.  
  
Feeling a little drowsy, Quatre scooted over and lay his head down in her lap among the dusty rose peau de soie of his sister's dress. Automatically, Iria's arms wound about him in an unconscious protective gesture that she'd adopted over the years. It wasn't quite clear why or when she'd really started her little habit. But, Quatre welcomed it all the same. One of his arms held his book possessively to his chest while the other crooked around his sister's waist in a half embrace.  
  
Staring at the shadows on the wall, he felt a surreal feeling of security, but then a mingling fear. Earlier that day, he'd had a talk with his sister. One of his least favorite topics of conversation had arisen somewhere between finding solutions to the illness scare and modern ethics.  
  
"Father has arranged yet another celebration for you." Iria said quietly and added with a little more difficulty, "to commemorate your excellence in finishing your schooling in half the allotted time and being the top of your class."  
  
"Nora told me in her last letter from home," Quatre smiled with difficulty as he squirmed a little uneasily in his seat.  
  
"I know that you don't like his little match-making efforts, why won't you tell him?"  
  
Quatre frowned, "It would be ungrateful of me. And, I truly want to see father happy with something.for once."  
  
Exhibiting as much presence as possible, Iria straightened her posture and crossed her legs in the feminine grace that Quatre had so long admired, "He cannot have his happiness at your expense. Quatre, I know your heart. And, you're dying inside. I can see it so clearly."  
  
Almost indignantly, Quatre quirked his lips in an attempt at a smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Sympathetically, Iria brushed her fingers through his bangs, "Why did he push you to finish so soon? I know he pressured you, he must have scared you. All those letters you keep in your satchel. Don't worry, I haven't read them," she said at Quatre's horrified look. "But, I can feel what he's told you. And, I don't like it one bit. Before I let go of the subject, will you promise me something?" At her brother's nod, she continued. "I want you to do what you feel is right. Follow your heart. . .your own heart. Alright?" Quatre nodded again. "Oh! Look at you. I'm sorry, but I had to get this out. I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't told you.told you exactly what I feel inside." And with that, Iria pulled her brother into a warm embrace that lasted for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
In a fitful wakefulness, Quatre chewed his lip digesting the events from earlier. Sometimes he could swear that his sister was a psychic or a wiccan. She just always seemed to know everything, secrets were no more than myth in her presence. It was comforting but frightening at the same time. Some things, Quatre wanted to keep to himself.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, the deep, resounding rumbling of thunder could be heard creeping out of the mountains. It seemed a little light outside for a storm, but Quatre was a little less than inclined to leave the safety of his sister's lap to investigate.  
  
After a moment or so, it dawned upon Quatre that the thunder had ceased to stop. Carefully, he extracted himself from his sister's hold so as not to wake her lest the sounds were but a figment of his imagination, he ambled up to the gilded window and scanned the terrain. It was a barren land with a few small shrubs sprouting here and there. Nothing but the mountains far away added depth to the scenery seemingly encasing this little basin of flat land in a sloping ring. It took a while to spot, but eventually Quatre's azure eyes fixed on a pale swarm moving quickly across the sun bleached landscape. He swerved his head around to see a very anxious looking Rashid staring at him. They'd both seen the same thing, wasting no time, Rashid urged the horses faster jerking the carriage and eliciting a sleepy groan from Iria and a startled yelp from Quatre who was flung back into his older sibling.  
  
Becoming more aware by the moment, Iria almost shrieked, "What's going on?!"  
  
"Bandits, I think," Quatre hissed overcoming the initial pain of landing and struggling to get up out of the many folds of his sister's dress.  
  
"I thought Zechs was supposed to have disposed of all of them," Iria frowned with disapproval masking her fear as best as she could.  
  
"He was," Quatre affirmed. "But, this is a vast region and there's bound to be a few stragglers."  
  
Scooting off her all too comfortable perch, Iria made her way to the window and peered out. "Um. . .Quatre. . .that is not 'a few.' That is what you'd call an army."  
  
Miserably, her brother nodded his agreement. "Look, Iria.they will catch up with us. No matter how experienced Rashid is, the team of horses we have is not enough to run so far so fast with such a heavy load to bear. So, when the bandits do overtake this vessel. I want you and Rashid to take two mounts and ride off as fast and as hard as you can." With a deep shuddering breath he looked up at his sister and her defiant glare. For a moment, he considered his next words before blurting them out with as much acid and authority as he could muster, "You will leave. Or I will have Rashid drag you. No matter how much he feels bound to me, I know that he will not disobey my orders."  
  
Taken aback by her brother's first display of authority, Iria stumbled backward and sat down waiting for the army to come. Reproachfully, Quatre sat and rested his head on her knees knowing very well that he had just sealed his fate in one fleeting moment.  
  
It did not take long for the riders to catch up. After the first slew of arrows, Rashid knew when to give up and brought the carriage to a slow, steady stop. Quatre was about to leave the artificial safety of the small compartment he and his sister occupied when she pushed him aside and jumped out ahead of him. She closed the door after her and fastened the dead bolt from the outside. Feeling his little assurance of his sister's safety slip, Quatre made to get out through the small window. He contorted himself and tried his damndest to get out but to no avail, he fell in a heap to the ground trying to gather his wits about him. He heard the hoof beats envelope everything. And, then, he heard his sister's strong voice rise above everything.  
  
"We have nothing of worth that we may give you. But, if you should need to take something, take me. Leave everything else be.I beg of you."  
  
Quatre was snapped to attention, too filled with shock and betrayal to speak.  
  
"What could you possibly be worth, lady? Your clothes fetch a better price than your face," a deep strange voice countered.  
  
"My dress. . .you may have it."  
  
Whatever was holding Quatre back was broken right then and there and he spoke in volumes he could have never conceived before in his life, "Rashid! Take Iria and go!" The thought of his sister baring all in front of the uncouth masses made his blood boil. He shot out so many commands in his native tongue to Rashid, to Iria, to the horses, that there was chaos outside. The horses reared up and moved in confusion causing the carriage to tip over onto its side and the harnesses to break. Quatre was jostled around and landed in a huddled mass on what was the left wall of the carriage and the only window to the outside. All he could do was hear the profuse beating of hooves and occasional shouts.  
  
"They're getting away!"  
  
"After them!"  
  
Quatre felt some warm pain in various parts of his body. It was a burning like sand rubbing his skin raw, and he loathed moving. After a while, the sound seemed to die down, and Quatre began to have mixed feelings. His lack of knowledge of what was happening outside was driving him mad. Then, he heard the latch being drawn. The sound was almost too small to hear, but it encompassed Quatre's entire world. What was waiting for him behind that door would decide his future, or lack there of.  
  
He barely saw the silhouette of the youth before a rough, sun-tanned hand stole into the sanctity of the roomy compartment and yanked Quatre out making him lose his defensive, ball like position. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he instinctively tried to regain his fetal like position.  
  
"Suppose she's some sort of a princess?" a small almost feminine voice piped up.  
  
Quatre, whom had kept his eyes squeezed shut for his first moments opened them in surprise as he was dropped roughly on the ground amid the biggest group of armed people he'd ever seen since the magnuacs. Everyone was lightly dressed and hard faced. They were no strangers to violence and Quatre shuddered at the thought. Then words began to prick his ears.  
  
"Look at her eyes. They're as luminous as the moon."  
  
"I know some men that would kill for a woman with such a fine face."  
  
"Look at what she's wearing, she must be important."  
  
"Those are the fullest lips I've ever seen."  
  
"How much do you think we'd get for her on market?"  
  
A few moments passed before the first real and pure emotion set in, a nerve wracking, mind blowing fear. He scrambled to his feet unsteadily still in a daze from being in the carriage for so long. He stumbled forward drunkenly looking at neither face nor mount. His mind had long since shut down, and luckily he was spared from further confusion by a blunt blow to his head by what felt to be the hilt of a sword. His last thought was "The sun is setting." before everything went pitch. ++  
  
Night had long fallen by the time Quatre awoke. For a moment he was panicked to discover that he did not know where he was. The trees were unfamiliar and stunted, the ground was hard and smooth still retaining the warmth of the last rays of the sun within it's earthen furnace, and anything else out of Quatre's immediate field of vision was blurred into one in the same color of grey. Then, the events of the afternoon washed over him. Lulled into a false sense of security that he wasn't dead yet, and that it was stupid of him to expect to know where he was, he closed his eyes again. All of it, every horrifying moment of it, he wanted it all to be a dream. He wanted to wake up next to his sister with the nightmare to tell, or to forget. If only life were so accommodating.  
  
"Why did you decide to take her back here?" a voice drifted lazily to his consciousness. It was even and filled with authority.  
  
"I felt so inclined," another voice countered.  
  
"Take her back to where you found her."  
  
"You won't even take a look-see?" a different voice pleaded. "But, of course, if you don't want her, I know plenty of people that would."  
  
"You talk about her as if she were a hunk of meat, Maxwell." another voice joined the foray.  
  
"Hey, did you get a good look at her?. . .No? See? Right there! You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
The voices faded, becoming less and less important to Quatre as he struggled to get his bearings straight. He looked about himself finally making shapes out of the murky darkness. He saw the backs of hundreds of huddled people all centered on their respective focal point, firelight.  
  
"Hey, she's awake," a small voice cried out. It seemed that the land had turned, all at once, there were hundreds of faces fixed on Quatre. Feeling the heat rise to his face, he tried to roll over but was stopped by a force stronger than gravity. His head felt like a quiver and arrow had just rung out through it. He gritted his teeth and doubled over waiting for it all to stop.  
  
He could sense them all coming towards him like an oppressive cloud. Their gritty hands stretched out, and their spindly bodies creeping. Then, they stopped and drew back. Quatre cracked one eye open in disbelief at the rows and rows of people all sitting with their legs folded under them in respectful attention for whoever or whatever was behind him. Slowly, he turned his head a little and looked as far back as possible and waited to see who was in charge.  
  
The low, even voice from earlier addressed him, "What is your name?"  
  
Several heartbeats passed before a reply could be made, "Quatre."  
  
"Just 'Quatre?'" the other asked with barely the slightest hint of amusement.  
  
"Just Quatre." the youth splayed out on the ground affirmed.  
  
"You don't look like a 'just Quatre,' to me," the other voice said in a colder, lifeless tone. Then a little more well tempered, he added, "But you might have been rendered so by the damage you've sustained on you head."  
  
Muted chuckles and whispered words fringed the silence that passed between the abducted and the captor.  
  
"Who are you?" Quatre almost whispered.  
  
"If you do not already know, you need not be told," came the reply sending small tremors up Quatre's spine. He lowered his head back to the ground feeling his mental strain catching up with him.  
  
"Duo, bring her to the main tent after she has been checked for ills. Heero, come with me." There was quiet footsteps and then nothing. A pair of heavier, careless footfalls came his way, and he felt a strong pair of arms fork under him and lift him up.  
  
"Wow. . .Wufei, check this out! She weighs but more than a feather!" A pair of bright blue eyes made direct contact with a wide pair of violets. "Her eyes really do light up! Look Wufei! Look!"  
  
Before anything could really register, Quatre was exchanged from one pair of solid arms to another more pleasantly careful pair. He felt like a baby being cradled, and hung slack for a lack of anything better to do. The person that had held him before resembled one of his sisters, though he couldn't remember which one. The heart shaped face, the cat-like smirk, and upturned eyes like a Cheshire cat. And long, rope like hair pulled back behind his head, a strange sight to Quatre's unschooled eyes.  
  
"Are you alright, miss?" Wufei asked while carefully readjusting his hold on Quatre. Poised and gentle like a crane, he used a raised knee to balance his small charge and his free hand to gently draw Quatre's head to his chest so that it wouldn't just hang from the crook of his arm. He was so careful.  
  
"Why are you being so kind to me?" Quatre asked a little displeased at the raspy quality of his voice.  
  
"It's natural," Wufei said simply. "Did you expect anything less?"  
  
++  
  
"You have nice hair," Wufei stated tonelessly. He was presently smoothing a thick, citrus smelling paste into Quatre's blood reddened mass of blond curls.  
  
"Th-thank you," Quatre stuttered trying his best to stay awake under the intoxicating pressure of someone's fingers running through his hair.  
  
"She looks like a cat in a girl's body, Wu!" Duo grinned. "I kind of hope that Trowa chooses to keep her. Ever seen a girl like her before? Or a boy, for that matter. . .Hey, girl, where are you from?"  
  
Before Quatre could formulate a response, Wufei cut in, "She has a name, Maxwell."  
  
To that, Duo rolled his eyes and buried his head in the fold of his arms, "It ain't gonna be her name anymore if she gets hitched to Trowa."  
  
"What do you think he'd name her?" Wufei snapped. "He's as much thought in other people as he has for himself."  
  
Duo leaned his chest on the table he'd been seated at and scooted the upper half of his body as close to Wufei as possible. "Don't say that about Trowa. He's really a nice person deep down. . .alright, really deep down. I'd give him twenty-four hours to warm up to Quatre before poke poke," he grinned touching the index finger of his right hand to the palm of his left suggestively.  
  
Wufei raised a brow, "My only comfort in all this is that you're already spoken for."  
  
"I'm sure Heero wouldn't mind a third party," Duo huffed with mock frustration.  
  
Nervously, Quatre worried the hem of his shirt trying to ignore what was being said. "I...I don't really see why you think I'm a girl."  
  
The fingers massaging his scalp paused only a moment before continuing again while Duo gawked incredulously. Then he climbed over the table and reached out purposely for between Quatre's legs when his hand was slapped away with a resounding smack. It took a moment to figure out that Wufei had actually moved, though Quatre had felt no difference in the moment leading up to and after the moment. Duo rubbed his reddened hand irately and muttered, "Death to that accursed hand of yours, Wufei."  
  
"You had no business poking yours where it doesn't belong. You need but ask, Maxwell. You've enough wind to expel from that blasted mouth of yours."  
  
Duo made a sour face, then did as he was bid, "So, Kat, you mean to tell us that you are a guy?"  
  
Quatre nodded slowly, cautiously feeling as if he'd signed his own death warrant. Duo gave him a cold, hard stare before melting into a large grin.  
  
"All the more fun," he said absolutely beaming. "If Trowa doesn't want Kat, I'll definitely take him."  
  
Wufei fought the urge to yank Duo's braid for his callousness but instead, he opted to finish washing Quatre's hair. "Duo, I'm sure Quatre's ability to understand spoken language isn't a bad as you seem to assume."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
".Just shut up, Maxwell," Wufei hissed sliding a towel under Quatre's head and setting the bowl he'd been using off to the side.  
  
"Well, Wuffie, someone has to claim him. It's something that Kat here is going to have to understand. He's not his own property until he's claimed, even then. . .I mean, who was it that claimed you Wufei?"  
  
"Aurel, who was in his time long, long ago claimed by Trichus. I know all the stories. I just have a small inhibition about speaking about someone as if they were property when they're in the general vicinity and within earshot."  
  
"I want to go home," Quatre whispered for the first time in his life.  
  
Duo gave him a strange look, ". . .Sorry to disappoint you, but, I seriously doubt that's gonna happen. People here would be nuts to let you go."  
  
Quatre blushed deeply and fought the frown that threatened his face, "Iria, I think she's worried. And, if I don't return home, I think that you all will have a big problem. If you let me go, I'll make sure nothing happens to you all."  
  
"You know, at one time we all said the exact thing you just did, and we're all still here. I think you'll like it here, honestly," Duo tried a comforting smile.  
  
At that, Quatre covered his face with his hands and exhaled deeply, his entire body tensed and tears made their way down his cheeks. Wufei calmly set down the teethed instrument he'd been using to inspect Quatre's wounds and wrapped the boy up in his arms. He set him in his lap and hugged him to his chest.  
  
"Aish." Duo sighed and rubbed his temples. "Sorry, Kat, I just don't lie. Truth hurts, I know."  
  
"Just don't talk," Wufei suggested dryly.  
  
A considerable amount of time passed before Quatre had been reduced to sporadic tears in the aftershock of his initial breakdown. Duo had already left the tent in pursuit of bigger and better things leaving Wufei behind to take care of everything. The pale youth sat hunched over on a cot draped with a heavy woven blanket. It had a large sun in its center with black lacy designs all over. His brow raised as he wondered where the bandits had stolen it.  
  
"That was Aurel's," Wufei said upon his return, balanced carefully on the tips of his fingers was a tray of fruits and tea. "He was from the north where they worship Manda."  
  
Quatre nodded a little ashamed at himself that he was feeling a bond between himself and this Wufei. "How can you talk so candidly. . .about all this. . .Weren't you abducted too?"  
  
Wufei allowed himself a wistful little grin as he set the tray down on top of a stack of books serving as a sort of table. "I was the son of a noble from the east. We were travelling to Kahmir to seal a pact between our clan and the kingdom there. In about the same spot your carriage was attacked, we were besieged. My father and his escorts were killed. A few years ago, I went back to my home province after Aurel died, and my mother was married again and had produced another son. So, I returned here to 'save face.' When the person that claims you dies, you are free to do as you please. It's ironic that after all my time in this place plotting the time I would leave that I returned without a second thought. I don't think about leaving anymore. This life grows on you like a sickness."  
  
"You don't miss your family?" Quatre asked quietly.  
  
Wufei rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head, "No, not really. My love for them is honor bound. It pains me when they ache, but not enough to return. I simply can not live their life anymore. . .but you miss your family?"  
  
"I. . .don't know," Quatre mumbled lamely, his head suddenly feeling very heavy. "I'm afraid."  
  
"That's understandable. It's alright to be afraid. Just don't let it rule you," Wufei said pouring some tea and placing it carefully in Quatre's unsteady hands. "Fear can be a liability."  
  
"What will happen to me if that man, Trowa doesn't want me?" Quatre asked wincing at the words he had to use.  
  
"If he doesn't want you, it's a free for all, basically." Wufei replied as if from a far away place. "It happens a lot."  
  
"Would you claim me?" the blond asked uneasily, shifting in his seat trying to hide the blush that was creeping into his face.  
  
The silence about killed him, then Wufei spoke, "I believe that I would. Do you want me to?"  
  
"You're nicer than. . .than most of them."  
  
Uneasy at the compliment, Wufei got up and kneeled next to Quatre on the cot and began brushing through his hair with a fine toothed comb. "Your head doesn't look too bad. Does it hurt at all?"  
  
"It's alright," came the small reply. He could tell that his little bond charge was lying through his teeth, but he wouldn't contradict him.  
  
"I'm going to get you some clothes to change into. It looks like Heero dragged you from the back of his horse all the way back to camp."  
  
Quatre smiled a little at the wry humor.  
  
++  
  
Not too long later, Quatre was sitting in the center of a spacious tent dressed in Wufei's outgrown clothing. It was definitely a different cultural style from what Quatre had been accustomed to seeing. In his boarding school, they'd been forced to wear stiff collared uniforms. A white blouse and over it a black vest and over that a black overcoat. On the overcoat were silver cufflinks emblazoned with the school emblem, an intricately carved "W" enshrined in ivy vines. Under the starched white collar, every student wore the same black tie with golden ivy designs stamped all over it and a silver pin. Every shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of plain black pants completely devoid of pockets. And each student wore the same black socks with the same black, polished shoes. There was nothing to distinguish one person from the other apart from their face and their grades.  
  
Back at his home province, people were beginning to lose their own flavor of dress. The rich families opted to wear clothing similar to what was seen in the faraway boarding school. Other families stuck to their old dress. That mostly consisted of loose fitting pants tied with a sash and long, heavy overcoats over a couple layers of light clothing. Most women wore hoods and dark eye make-up to shadow their faces. And they dyed their hands red, brown and black with earthy designs from the supreme book. All in all, the style of dress of Quatre's people was similar to Wufei's but definitely different.  
  
Wufei's clothing was heavy silk bedecked with colorful designs of dragons and peacocks amid flowers and tree branches. There were many layers of such coats and shirts making almost hard to move. Quatre felt like a doll. He liked the look of what he was wearing, but actually wearing it was a different thing completely. It was every color imaginable all tastefully on one sheet of cloth. . .that weighed a ton. Quatre was glad to sit while he waited for those that were to decide his fate to make their appearances. Wufei stood next to him with his erect, soldier like posture. What he wore was considerably less grand than what Quatre was drowning in. It was a pair of pristine white pants and an overcoat that reached his ankles with a slit starting from his hips allowing for a longer range of motion. When asked about why his clothing was so simple, he answered amusedly, "I can't sew that well."  
  
Quatre felt a little filthy in the clothes he was in. His current guardian had refused to allow him time to bathe, and nor did he really help with getting Quatre clothed. It was as if he was embarrassed by flesh.  
  
The eastern youth stood patiently, his arched brows quirked and his mouth set in a thin grim line. He looked like he was waiting to be hit. Just as Quatre was about to say something, he heard the rustle of the tent flaps and watched three shadowed figures enter. One, he recognized as Duo, the other two weren't so familiar. They all sat in pre-arranged positions. The tallest of them sat on the center mat. One of his eyes was covered by a curtain of shiny light brown hair, his visible eye was a deep forest green, but lacked the luster of a normal person's eye. He wasn't focusing on Quatre, he hadn't, in fact, turned his attention away from whom Quatre presumed was his second in command. The other youth was shorter by a few inches with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He too had yet to notice that there were other people about. He sat to the left of the taller person. Duo flopped down carelessly to the right of the tall youth and played idly with the end of his braid.  
  
Wufei cleared his throat politely and waited for the three people at the far end of the room to take notice. Duo's head snapped to attention while it took another minute or so for the others to turn. One green eye widened a little before returning to its natural dead appearance.  
  
"Would you pass up claiming something like that?" Duo asked loudly cocking his head to one side.  
  
"I've not seen a boy like that before," the blue eyed youth stated blandly. He seemed uninterested and like he'd have loved to be somewhere else. Quatre shared his sentiments.  
  
"Where are you from, little one?" Trowa asked, his voice more void of life than his appearance. He hadn't intended to add on the little nickname to his query but decided not to make anything of it.  
  
"Kahmir." Quatre answered guiltily.  
  
"Nobility?"  
  
". . .yes."  
  
"Rank."  
  
Quatre's mouth moved but no words came out. He had no real desire to give that little bit of information away. He bit his lip nervously while Wufei fixed him with a wary look.  
  
"Just tell us, Kat," Duo coaxed. "It isn't going to kill you."  
  
Quatre squeezed his eyes shut under the scrutiny he was being subjected to. No matter how hard he tried, the only sound that managed to escape his lips was a weak "mm." Fighting the constricting and contorting in his chest, he forced out a weak lie, "I am merchant rank. . .highest before royalty."  
  
"Would I profit more by holding you ransom or keeping you here?"  
  
". . .ransom."  
  
"He stays, then," Trowa said idly. "He will reside within my living quarters for the time being."  
  
Frightened, Quatre looked up at Wufei feeling the ground crumble beneath him. Surely he wouldn't allow him to be taken by this man. But, then, Wufei bowed his head, spun on his heel and left. Somehow, it was apparent that he had long ago gone on auto-pilot and would have never left otherwise. His antagonistic feelings towards Trowa in that one moment were bare and felt through Quatre.  
  
"You've made a fine choice," Heero said as if he'd been rehearsing it his entire life. "Do you desire privacy?"  
  
Seeing the extreme need the others felt to leave, Trowa nodded and watched them go giving himself something to concentrate on other than letting his eyes wander back to his new "property" if only for a few more seconds.  
  
When he turned back, the blond youth was visibly drawn up into himself. He sat delicately on his legs with his hands folded neatly in his lap. His eyes were focused on the floor, and he stared as if he were seeing through it. Past the thin woven matting, through the dirt and rocks, and out the other side. He sat pensive as only a person in his position could. Vague remembrance of his similar predicament years upon years before washed over Trowa, though he shrugged it off preferring not to be bothered by it at the moment.  
  
"Are you tired?" he asked. Struck not too long after by wide blue eyes, he continued, "Tomorrow morning, you will go see Duo to get your duties straightened out. I know that sleep is the last thing on your mind right now." his tone lowered to one of a deadlier, more commanding presence, "but I insist that you try."  
  
It was startling how easily his tone went from vacant to poisonous and a dangerous aura seemed to just ooze from his being.  
  
"Where do I sleep?" Quatre asked biting back the bile in his throat.  
  
Trowa rose lifting his chin inquisitively, "Follow me." He waited for Quatre to make it to his feet before he stole out of the tent with all the flair of a confident leader, his cloak flowing behind him like black fire. To the blond boy's horror, his new "owner" all but disappeared into the shadows, his only distinguishing characteristic being the silver glinting of the incubus shaped hilt of his sword. Winking. . .winking in the darkness like a long forgotten nightmare.  
  
++  
  
Trowa's living quarters consisted of a rather large tent with a few different rooms separated by sheets. Most of the room in the tent was clearly not used at all. The miniscule amount of furnishings he chose to own had all been pooled about the center of the middle compartment. A mat was draped over a raised wooden platform. It looked like a stunted bed. The sheets and covers were all black and red damask, some with golden lining. Wasting no time in reminding Quatre of his current station, Trowa unrolled a sitting mat and laid it out a few feet away from his bed indicating that that was where he expected him to sleep. It looked comfortable enough, though the situation was a little less inviting. Quatre didn't revel in being watched. He lay down stiffly on the soft fabric while Trowa shrugged out of his over clothes. Somehow, it didn't seem right like he was mad about something but almost nothing indicated anything of the sort. Vague memories of visiting those whom were plagued by brilliance played out in Quatre's mind. They had moved in much the same manner like they had something important to do and were furious that it hadn't been done already.  
  
When he was through stripping himself down to a long black shirt and form fitting pants, he turned to Quatre, "You don't look comfortable." Rewarded with the little bundle of clothing writing uneasily on the matted floor and a pair of mortified eyes chancing a glance at him, he pressed on, "We're both of the same sex, or so I've been told. You shouldn't be so apprehensive about disrobing."  
  
The blond shook his head "no" and turned over trying to appear comfortable.  
  
"You're stubborn," Trowa said with an acid loathing as he stalked forward and turned Quatre over. He sat carefully on his stomach and began pulling the silk fasteners out of their loops, peeling off layer and layers of clothing.  
  
Quatre's mouth hung open at the sheer presumptuous nature of his "master," and his entire body was tense as a rod even when he was coaxed into sitting so that another robe may be discarded into the careless pile that was forming off to the left of his head. When Trowa was satisfied, he backed off and sat on his own futon without making so much as a sound. Quatre was down to the under layer of clothing, a thin blue hook and loop shirt, and loose white pants. He spent a few moments looking over his clothing, sitting on his legs with the straight posture that had long been cultured in him from childhood.  
  
"Fold the clothes," was the last thing Trowa said to Quatre all night.  
  
++  
  
He woke up with a start looking about frantically with his heart beating erratically in his chest. As far as the eye could see was all desert, arid, pale, flat, sun beaten desert. The whistle of the wind in the sand dunes was all that greeted him. They were all gone, every last one of them. No tracks marked their passage swallowed up in the nighttime winds like an ill- humored dream. Sweat pricked the back of his neck and began to track down his face. Nothing for miles in all directions. The land looked without an end.  
  
Out of nowhere a hand touched his shoulder. He turned instantly to come face to face with the most hardened, frightening face he'd ever seen in his life. Already past his fear limit, he struck out with all the force he could muster.  
  
++  
  
Quatre flew back before he could even register what had happened. Automatically, his hands went to his face even as he hit the ground after knocking over a small table and a chair. The hiss of his sharp intake of breath and tear choked cough filled the tent.  
  
Trowa's eyes flew open feeling all the adrenaline ebb away quickly being replaced by a curious helplessness. He sat up and turned his head towards the muffled sobs coming from the floor. Quatre was huddled on the ground with his hands cupped over his face, a few pieces of furniture turned over near him and it took a minute for Trowa to piece it all together. He could still feel Quatre's soft skin under his knuckles, and it made his stomach turn. He called out to the boy and eased himself off his bed. Experimentally, he placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder and was immediately rebuffed by an agonized cry. He drew his hand away as if he'd been burned. Dazedly, he looked around and noticed that there had been an attempt to straighten his room, and all the clothing he'd stripped off the night before was in a neat pile off to the side of everything.  
  
Unconsciously, a name fell from his lips, ".Wufei."  
  
  
  
tbc 


	2. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing  
  
I got the idea for this after reading "Quatre and the Bandits" sorry, I forget who the author was. Don't worry, though, my fic doesn't follow hers to the letter. I just borrowed a few of the major points, in another chapter or so, you won't be able to tell I ever read her story^^; And, as for the rating of this story, I'm probably not going to hold faithful to it, so, as the chapters progress, don't flame me.  
  
Thank you  
  
  
  
"What did you do?" the easterner said acidly punctuating every word. The sun was just rising above the sand dunes and he had woken only a few minutes before his esteemed leader materialized in his living quarters.  
  
"Quatre…I was not wakeful when I struck him," Trowa said not asking for any type of forgiveness nor receiving any.  
  
Narrowing his eyes to slits, Wufei left in a huff in the general direction of Trowa's dwelling. He was fuming, something that didn't happen often, but Trowa didn't make much of as he made to seek Heero out.  
  
**  
  
Cautiously, Wufei stepped into the darkness of the large tent realizing the sparseness of furnishings and how quiet sobs and hiccups echoed through the emptiness. "Quatre," he called out as warning making his way through the fabric doorways. He looked about the largest chamber having to tuck his hair behind his ears and out of his eyes constantly since he had not the time to bind it earlier. It took almost no time at all to spot Quatre huddled up on the floor. Immediately, Wufei made his way past overturned furniture and crouched down next to the sniffling mass.  
  
"Quatre," he said again and again trying to gain the other's attention. A little unsteady, he reached out and rested his hand on Quatre's back. It made him feel incredibly lightheaded that he wasn't being rebuffed and made unsure patterns on the tense back feeling all of his senses seeping into the soles of his hand. All too soon Quatre became pliant under his nervous ministrations, and the giddiness swelling in his head forced Wufei to sit back and regain his bearings. His face impassive though his body wrought with countless foreign emotions, he asked with an even tone, "Quatre, can you look at me?"  
  
The blond mop of hair shook from side to side miserably. Taking a deep breath, Wufei pulled Quatre up into a sitting position and gently tugged at his hands. They wouldn't budge. Sighing with a defeated air, Wufei sat back on his feet and pleaded softly, "I need to see how bad you have been hurt." Receiving no response at all, he got to his feet with a plaintive, "I'm going to light the lamps." While he was striking up the last one, he was surprised by the tiny voice that beseeched him from behind.  
  
"I'm fine…really," Quatre said shakily. "It just sur-surprised me a little bit. But, I'm fine now. You don't need to see it." He hiccuped, and knew that he'd utterly failed in convincing the easterner. Through the gaps between his fingers, he saw Wufei turn, his honest brown eyes settling like lead weights on his shoulders. That prompted him to switch tactics, "I mean…it's swollen up right now. I don't think you'd want to see it anyway. I look so ugly right now. I can't bear to have anyone see me like this…"  
  
It would have been cute, if Wufei didn't know how bad the little one must've felt. He sat across from Quatre and clasped his hand around his. "Do you think me so shallow?" Gently, he pried one of the hands from the porcelain face and curled the fingers into the palm making Quatre's hand into a fist. He looked up into the unmarred half of the beautiful face he'd uncovered so far and guided the fist to lightly rap on the side of his own face. Then he smiled a little comfortingly and implored once more, "Let me see."  
  
Reluctantly, Quatre let his other hand fall to reveal his purplish and swollen cheek. Tiny cuts crisscrossed just below his shut-eye and crystalline tears fell from his long lashes. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and to his horror almost broke down right there. Blood mingled with tears and dazedly, Quatre brushed his fingertips across the wound.  
  
Wufei's heart broke right there staring at the positively exquisite face torn by such pain. "You're not ugly," he said shaking his head, his voice surprisingly even. He wet his sash in the nearest water basin and began to delicately sponge up all the blood. "This will never happen again," he said as much to put Quatre at ease as to assure himself.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm so weak," Quatre whispered. "I guess. . .this was just my first taste. . .of the real world."  
  
Panicked, but not showing it, Wufei took the youth by the shoulders, "No. no. no. It is not all like this. There are good things out here."  
  
"Good things…good people like you," Quatre spoke softly.  
  
Wufei smiled warmly, "I wish I were the saint you make me out to be."  
  
"You're curiously kind for such a bad person," Quatre smiled ruefully. "I wonder whether I should hate the all of you. . ." He glanced at Wufei and then turned away. "However. . .I don't think I could. I get this feeling. . .I feel that something is going to happen soon, and you, my abductors, will be all I have to depend on. I don't know how to describe how I feel. 'Humbled' doesn't quite cut it."  
  
"How do you know something will happen?" Wufei queried a little intrigued.  
  
Quatre blushed and scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly, "I don't really know. I just get these premonitions, and they happen most of the time."  
  
"Did you sense what would happen to you yesterday?" Wufei probed.  
  
"I felt no ill winds," Quatre confessed.  
  
"No matter," Wufei said looking over the cuts once again. "I believe you anyway."  
  
"Thank you," Quatre replied allowing himself to be tended to.  
  
**  
  
Despite Wufei's repeated warnings for him to rest for a while, Quatre went and had a look around the rocky expanse of land they were camped in. It looked as if nothing could ever grow in the arid landscape. The sky sent down an oppressive blaze to the earth, dust and sand blew about in the air, and large walls of stone rose high above camp. The air was a little humid to Quatre's surprise, but he couldn't understand how. The troupe of bandits, villagers, or what have you were almost all gone save for a few old women, young girls, and children. They sat outside their cream colored family tents doing womanly things such as sewing, making pottery, or cooking. It was a little unnerving, not that they were working, but how openly they stared. Their eyes were like black slits in their leathery faces and their thick black brows knit together in varying degrees from curiosity to deep set malice. The uneasiness of the situation prompted Quatre to go in search of Duo who not-surprisingly was no where to be found.  
  
He did however have luck enough or lack thereof to run into Trowa a little ways into the outskirts of camp. Some pale vegetation grew around there rattling in the faint wind and stunted trees sat here and there.  
  
Utter silence had covered him and the earth around him like a thick sheet. He was alone, not even his all too faithful right-hand man Heero was anywhere to be seen. When Quatre arrived, it was a kind of tense moment that neither could easily break away from.  
  
"Your eye, does it hurt?" Trowa asked in his typical monotone. It was hard to tell whether he was concerned or not.  
  
"It does not hurt," Quatre replied and smiled despite his mounting apprehension. "I'm sorry I scared you."  
  
"It does not bother me so much as you suppose," Trowa retorted almost sounding insulting without meaning it.  
  
"You were troubled. What did you dream?" Quatre asked changing the subject and was fixed with a stony glare.  
  
"You have forgotten your place," Trowa stated far more biting than he needed to be.  
  
Quatre's eyes met the ground as he fought to suppress all the bitterness he felt at that moment, "I did." He felt like he was back at home under the iron like rule his father enforced on things. His things. Silently, he wondered whether he should just treat his master as if he were a second father to make things easier to deal with. They had to be at least a good two years apart anyway, tacking on an extra forty years wouldn't make too much of a difference. "Is there anything you would like done today?"  
  
"Did you forget my instructions to find Duo for that kind of information?" Trowa asked sourly.  
  
"I sought him out," Quatre answered. "But I don't think he'd be able to tell me what you want. He is not you."  
  
Confused on whether to be pleased or annoyed, Trowa stuck to his neutral expression. He studied the blond youth next to him. Tufts of golden hair poked out of the gauze wrapped meticulously around his head to conceal the hideous damage that had been inflicted earlier. His one visible blue eye was as luminous as lightning but as dark as the raging sea. He was dangerous, and he didn't realize it, much to everyone else's advantage. He looked innocent and frighteningly intelligent at the same time. It could turn out with him being either extremely important, public enemy number one, or wonderfully unaware.  
  
What was also worrisome was the fact that he was important where he came from, and some from his travelling party had gotten away. However much he hated to pry, he'd have to find out everything about his life companion somehow. It would be a liability to have someone else meddle with his affairs no matter how trustworthy the individual.  
  
"Would you do anything I ask of you, little one?" Trowa asked staring intently at him to make him uneasy.  
  
Cutting off the numerous questions coursing through his mind, Quatre decided it better not to ask remembering how his father hated questions answered with questions. It was to him an unnecessary thing that raised more problems than solving. Though his son begged to differ. "I would do most things for you," Quatre replied and then quickly added. "Please do not be angry with me. I know your real question, and my answer is 'no.' I will never betray you."  
  
"You swear," Trowa demanded.  
  
Quatre really wanted to tread lightly on that one query, but found himself saying, "I swear."  
  
To his surprise the sharp green eyes that had been fixed on him softened a little looking almost satisfied.  
  
"Should I be kind to you, little one?" Trowa asked rhetorically. " I will own you to the day I die. And, I can honestly not see myself saying a gentle word to you at all. I don't know what it is to be kind, and you have to accept that."  
  
Quatre nodded numbly, "Yes sir."  
  
"Duo will give you a name later," Trowa said. "Go back to the tent for now."  
  
Not thinking to question his chances of escape or his master's faith in him, Quatre bowed and walked away.  
  
**  
  
"He sees phantoms…" Quatre spoke to himself quietly after the sun had set. Dinner fires were ablaze outside, and he could see the silhouettes of people on the thick canvas of the outer walls. Trowa was still out doing who knew what. "The desert threatens to swallow him whole. Abandoned among the dunes and unfamiliar faces. Young and overpowered. Overpowered how many times…" Quatre probed further into the darkness with his mind but could make nothing more of it. Residual dreams could only tell so much. He hadn't really sought out the last remnants of his master's nightmare, it had kind of caught in his mind like dust in the sinus. He'd been straightening out the tent, when it struck him, forcing him to down with its weight. In the boarding school his father had sent him to, he'd been able to feel what others were feeling and sometimes sense their thoughts. It was a kind of suffocating of his mind that he'd never been subjected to as severely at home.  
  
His father was one of the only readable people that maintained negative feelings so intense, that he could bend people to his will whom didn't even possess Quatre's gift. Ofcourse it also had something to do with his rank in society, but was a different matter entirely.  
  
Tired from rewinding and playing the dream remnants in his mind, Quatre felt like falling asleep. Then he thought of Trowa, and wondered whether he would care. In the palace of Khamir, servants were not permitted to sleep until the king had the gong sounded. It had always seemed a useless rule, and now that he was on the receiving end of it, it seemed even more detestable.  
  
He sat with his legs crossed and his head tipping to his right shoulder looking slightly like a marionette. Slowly but surely, he was leaning further and further forward. Eventually, he found his cheek resting rather comfortably on the woven mats that made up the floor. In essence he was lying down and sitting at the same time, and not quite as aware as he would have liked to be. His long hair fell into his eye and cascaded about his face. He would have liked to do something about it, but a sudden exhaustion took him and he found himself quite unable to move. Looking at his haphazardly lain body through a half-lidded eye and a shock of almost translucent hair, the image of folding cushions came immediately to mind providing him with a moment of wry amusement. Eventually, against his will, his eyes slowly slid shut.  
  
**  
  
"Oh, that's precious!" Duo cried as he, Heero, Trowa, and Wufei entered the tent. "Poor little guy must've gotten tuckered out from all the excitement." Before he could go straighten the youth out, Wufei was already there, by his side, checking him over and stretching him out of his odd contorted position. It had become plausible at that point to assume that the little man's joints were made of elastic to allow them to bend the way they did.  
  
Wufei frowned deeply smoothing Quatre's sweaty bangs out of his eyes and feeling his clammy skin.  
  
Without warning, Quatre's back arched off the ground and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His bright blue eyes flew open as his back hit the ground. Blankly, his visible eye took in his surroundings and rested somewhere between Wufei's bewildered face and Trowa's silent awe.  
  
"Where are we?" he asked the confused group, his one eye wide and pleading.  
  
All eyes flew to Trowa, and he raised his chin in submission. Delicately, Wufei helped Quatre into a sitting posture, "We are in the Hago Badlands. Why do you ask this now?"  
  
"I don't know," Quatre answered half honestly. "I think I just forgot myself for a moment, there." He blushed a little finding himself yet again in Wufei's protective arms. It felt very nice there, but a little strange in front of an audience.  
  
Before he could recover himself, his mind began to wander. His body began to feel airy, and everything else like cotton. "I wonder…" he started to say but lost his voice and tumbled into the dark confines of sleep once again.  
  
**  
  
It was well into the night when he was wakeful once again. Layers of blankets rested atop him making him feel slightly feverish. Groggily, he shoved them aside and sat up adjusting his eyes to the lack of light.  
  
Everything was very quiet and still, not even the sound of insects stirring the air. Quatre looked over towards his master's bed, and about keeled over when he saw him turned towards him, his eyes like two green slits in his face. He looked a little angry though asleep, but surprisingly, after Quatre focused on him, his eyes closed and his face regained the neutrality of unawareness.  
  
Taken by a sudden impulse, Quatre edged cautiously closer to his slumbering master. He'd never really gotten a good look at him before and now was beset by a peculiar desire to touch his face, though he dared not. "I saw warriors gathered on Hago high on cliffs, low in valleys, hidden in the dunes. And then, something happened. To even try to describe it would be ludicrous. . .I fear for you," he whispered.  
  
As if he understood the meaning in those words, Trowa shifted in his sleep and frowned.  
  
"You're angry with something," Quatre mused. "I would give you better dreams if it were in my power to do such witchcraft. Actually, I may yet acquire such power. Being here, it seems. . .it makes me more 'aware', if you could call it that. . ." A feeling of hopeless frustration bloomed in his chest, and he was forced to laugh quietly at himself. "I wish you were someone I could confide in when you're not unconscious," he teased the still sleeping figure.  
  
A slightly more displeased expression crossed Trowa's elegant face, but Quatre simply took it for worse dreams. Opting to stay clear of stray fists this time around, he curled down on his futon and listened to the almost inaudible heartbeat of the night before falling into a light slumber.  
  
**  
  
"You look like you got burned," Duo laughed sleepily as Trowa made his way out of his tent.  
  
He looked bedraggled and generally displeased. It wasn't unusual to see him looking unhappy, but a little out of the ordinary for him to look depressed on top of it. He gave Duo a venomous glance and continued on his way to find Heero not even bothering to ask him what he was up to so early in the morning.  
  
When he was sure that Trowa was gone and out of sight, Duo slunk into the recently vacated tent to give little Quat a one on one par his lover's instructions and the goading of everyone else in the community.  
  
"Quatre," he called out into the darkness dragging it out until it was eight syllables long. "Are you alright?" he asked a little more seriously after a long pause while pushing aside the phoenix gauze of the second entryway. A patch of pale on the floor among all the dark answered his question, and he began to step a lot more carefully. Standing above the prince like youth felt kind of funny but thrilling at the same time. At his leisure, he brainstormed elaborate ways of waking the boy up.  
  
Finally he decided to just do the most humane thing and tore the covers from the still sleeping figure sending cool gusts of air down the prone body. Quatre sprung about a foot off the ground just out of reflex, otherwise lying stiff as a board, his eyes open wide and staring accusingly at Duo. For a moment, it appeared as though Duo really was looking at a prince. The steely appearance of Quatre's soft eyes at that moment looked frightening enough to promise severe hurt. Duo felt himself take a step back with an uncontrollable grin spreading across his face guiltily.  
  
"Morning Kat," he chortled.  
  
Almost feeling disappointed, Quatre sat up and averted his eyes mumbling, "thank you" and "sorry" simultaneously. He began to put his things in order before hearing a good-natured cough from above. Schooling himself carefully, he craned his head up and forced a pleasant smile.  
  
"Are you alright, Kat?" Duo asked.  
  
"Yeah. I just feel a little disoriented. I'll get used to this eventually, right? Pretend that Trowa is my father and everyone else here are my sisters," he smiled comforting himself a little.  
  
Feeling a little responsible for everything, Duo decided to change the subject. "While we're on that train of thought. . .er. . .more or less. You woke up after Trowa did." Receiving a little nod, he continued, "You must never do that from now on. You wake up half an hour before the sun rises and take care of all your personal business unless told otherwise. Also, you need to start prepping breakfast in that time. When Trowa wakes up, you ask him respectfully what he would like to wear, and you set it out for him. I doubt he'll want help putting it on, so you're safe there. Oh, and before that you serve him breakfast, so you can be getting his clothes laid out while he eats. Then while he's getting dressed, you check if there's any special tasks he wants done. Then when he leaves, you make his bed, straighten up, you get it. Then you basically spend the rest of the day making food clothes and practice talents that are selected for you."  
  
"What of his horse?" Quatre asked. "Doesn't he have one?"  
  
"Yeah, he does, actually. But, don't worry about it. He never lets anyone near him. You won't get stuck with that work unless he asks you to. Ooh! And, when Trowa gets home, you need to have dinner ready by then. Get the stuff for tomorrow's meals set out the night before, too. I think you get the general idea of this whole business by now, anyway. Oh! Almost forgot, we, us slave peoples, eat at noontime. It's kind of ritualistic in its own messed up way."  
  
Quatre nodded. "I'll start work then," he said hinting at Duo to leave.  
  
"I'm gonna help you out today, how's that? It's my job, anyway. Sorry, I wasn't here yesterday, I had some stuff to do," Duo chattered helping Quatre to make Trowa's bed. "I don't suppose you know how to cook either, so I'll help you today with that."  
  
Quatre bit his inner cheek to keep himself from making a retort about his cooking expertise. Just because he was from a privileged family didn't mean that he had been a privileged individual.  
  
Most of the morning was passed with chores and idle chatter from Duo that Quatre paid no particular heed to.  
  
"Earth to Kat," Duo said for the third time finally gaining the little one's attention and a quiet "hm?"  
  
A little perturbed at the faraway way he was acknowledged he decided to drop the bombshell right away, "So, have you and Trowa done it yet?"  
  
"'It?'" Quatre echoed returning to his task of plucking the spikes from cactus plates.  
  
"Oh man! Tell me you know what sex is," Duo pleaded.  
  
Quatre shook his head slowly a little suspicious.  
  
"Awh! You poor little man!" Duo pouted and patted the blonde's back sympathetically. "Well…ah…I dunno how to explain this without cracking myself up. So, all I can really say is…you'll know it when it happens. And since I've gotten you to talk a little, mind if I push my luck? Great. So, what do you think of Trowa?"  
  
"To be honest," Quatre began feeling a void spring up in his mind, "I don't think much…of him. For now, he is just a man that gives me orders. Like a father. It's a little frightening how easily you can adapt to a situation when you can associate it with something familiar. It makes me feel a little guilty. I'm not as upset as I should be. Everything here is so surreal. What would you do if the entire Khamir armada were to engage you over those cliffs at this very moment?"  
  
"That's weird," Duo raised a brow and set down the pestle he'd been grinding peppers with. "Why would the whole army come to retrieve a merchant's boy?"  
  
"It's a hypothetical question," Quatre mumbled. "I don't even know if anyone is searching for me at all."  
  
"Fine! Fine! Keep your secrets peddler boy!" Duo winked at a fair humored Quatre. "Alright then, so, what do you think of Wu-man?"  
  
"Wufei?" Quatre corrected. "I don't really know what to say other than that he's very kind."  
  
Duo made a face, "Only to you. To everyone else, he's a bear. Not nice at all!"  
  
"He can't be any worse than what your mind leads you to believe," Quatre answered sprinkling more water onto the ground meal and folding it over kneading it into workable dough. "Where is he, by the way?"  
  
"Oh…him? He seldom joins in the 'ssurio' outings much like Trowa. He pretty much does what we do all day if that answers your question. Ooh! And he reads! Whenever Heero and the rest of ssurio come back with material things, Wufei always has first dibs on books," Duo replied wracking his brain for more information. "Ah. I can't think of anymore to tell you." Before the other youth could even nod, his mouth was going again. He prodded very blatantly into Quatre's basic character and information: his birth date, his favorite things, his least favorite things, and other snatches of useless facts. Even before he was through talking, the food prepping was finished. He almost had to be reminded of what they'd been doing for a good half of the day.  
  
**  
  
"I really…want to bathe," Quatre whispered shielding his face from tendrils of smoke laced with the pungent smell of meat emitted from the earthen hearth he was using. Carefully, he probed into the ash and retrieved little green pockets woven from grass, stuffed with meat and spices. Meat had never been a favorite food morsel of Quatre's and now that he would have to cook it regularly made him feel painfully ill.  
  
"It's alright," Duo assured the blond, patting his back his back comfortingly. "I'll finish up here, if you want, and you can go down to the stream to wash off. It's somewhere off that way." He indicated with his finger to a ridge of steep cliffs off in the distance. "It's a thirty minute walk if you're up for it right now."  
  
"Thank you," Quatre said earnestly poised to raise himself to his feet. But, before he could, a hand arrested the back of his neck found Duo was kissing his immaculate cheek. Duo's inability to keep his laughter at bay told of no ill humor as he released the stunned blond and shooed him off still laughing.  
  
**  
  
It took less time than he expected to come across the small stream Duo had talked about. It was about two horse lengths long and deep enough to come up to a man's shoulders while standing on the rock and silt carpeted bottom. Quatre sat by the shore and closed his eyes feeling a little comforted by the steady gurgling of running water. Dense vegetation sprouted all around, but thinned fairly abruptly about ten feet or so from the water's edge.  
  
After a fashion, he began to disrobe making sure to carefully fold each article of clothing before stacking it in a neat little pile on one of the few rocks lining the bank. He stripped down to a simple white undershirt made of cotton like material much different from the finery Wufei had provided him with only a day before. A little too self-conscious to expose all, he waded into the lukewarm water "as is" and rested on his haunches in the shallows. Water lapped lazily at his chin like a dozen soft sheets. It was a nice feeling like somehow it could protect him. Water on his skin always had a strange intrinsic significance to him even when he was young. In its reflective surface, he sometimes felt that he could see the world and twinge of a bold feeling of being able to mold it. But even in childhood, he'd never had the confidence to seriously entertain such thoughts.  
  
Languidly, he ran his fingers along the surface of the water watching the ripples and then rubbing off some of the accumulated filth from his body with his fingertips. His skin began to regain some of its former luminescence. He managed a small smile.  
  
Glowing ivory in a dark place.  
  
** 


	3. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and never will  
  
Please don't flame me  
  
And, lastly, sorry for the short chapter. I've been working really hard on schoolwork and studying for tests for the past few months. It's not going to let up…and I don't know if I'll be able to push out any more chapters before summer vacation. . . where I will be in Maryland without an internet connection. I'm really sorry, guys  
  
And, thanks so much for reading. I know my fic is cliché and very amateur^_^; I'll work very hard at improving my prose style  
  
  
  
Two weeks passed quietly, tensions dissipated but were immediately replaced with an almost unnoticeable ominous lull that settled upon the whole encampment. The cuts on Quatre's cheek had healed into sunset pink lines, and the bruise around his eye into a light gray patch that looked something like eyeliner. Though he'd not made any real friends among his fellow slaves, they all seemed to dote upon him as if he was everyone's son. Everyone had come up with his or her own variations of numerous names to assign to him, but the most common insofar had been, "Manuomo." According to Duo, it meant sometime along the lines of "heavenly" or "felled from the divine." It was a word from one of three lesser-known ancient tongues still spoken, but not enough to note.  
  
Quatre had not one word with Wufei all week without the stifling presence of his master over his shoulder. He didn't really know whether to be disappointed or not. Upset that there was a possibility that Trowa was being needlessly protective, or that he really cared whether he got to exchange nice idle conversation with a person he favored.  
  
It was early evening after Quatre had finished almost all of the day's work that he could afford a moment to himself. He sat on a large smooth rock, discovered on one of his numerous walks into the outskirts, staring out into space. Spectral images sat poised on cliff ledges, shrouded in shadows, riding their horses hard over the ridge without moving. He'd been seeing the same image for days, sometimes different, yet, somehow always the same.  
  
A familiar voice snapped Quatre out of his trance. He forced a smile as he watched the specters dissolve into vapor like clouds hanging in the air. "Wufei," he welcomed the Easterner warmly not quite sure whether he was truly pleased or not. All his emotions as of late had been muddled, shuffled, and tossed back out in contradictory pairs. He turned over to face his approaching friend, and felt his feelings assuaged as he was reminded once again of the simple beauty emanating from and within the other boy.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Wufei asked taking a seat next to him.  
  
Quatre couldn't help but amuse himself with the irony in that one question. "I'm alright, thank you. How are you feeling this fine evening?" he replied sweetly.  
  
"All right," Wufei answered feeling a little clumsy and unapt at utilizing the full force of his vocabulary. He stared at the space between his and Quatre's hands. "Are you adjusting well? I think. . . in a year or so, I might be able to get Trowa to turn you loose. . . But, then, I wonder whether I'd want you to go." He looked seriously at him with a nameless emotion writ in his eyes. "I want you to be free. Don't get me wrong. . . I just don't know what I'd do when and if you left for good."  
  
"Why do you care what happens to me, really?" Quatre asked unintentionally flirtatious.  
  
"I don't know how to tell you how I feel. But, there's something happening," Wufei took a moment to swallow the growing lump in his throat. "I just know that if you're not around, I'll die. God. . . this is so hard to explain. Do you understand a little of what I'm trying to say?" He licked his lips and cast him a desperate look.  
  
"I think so," Quatre said good-humoredly. "When I went to boarding school. . . I formed an almost instant affection for one of my fellow classmates. Everyday. . . I prayed for a kind word, at least a 'hello.' But, he was always so cool and alone. It was an almost suffocating feeling I got whenever I saw him. He was so handsome and smart. Do you know what I'm talking about?" He turned his attention sheepishly to his companion. "I thought. . . I'd die without seeing his face. It was only infatuation, though. Never anything serious. Wufei, how long have you been at distance from other people. . . that you have such trouble dealing with yourself?"  
  
"It's been a while," Wufei admitted.  
  
Laying a hand on Wufei's shoulder, Quatre smiled at him understandingly and whispered in a somewhat conspiratial tone, "I'm a little messed up right now. This whole social reordering is something I have to work out in my mind before I can commit to anything. . . how do you say. . . er. . . real. So, I'll be your very, very good friend for now, alright? Is it alright?"  
  
Feeling a little light-headed, Wufei nodded. "Yeah.. . .How could this happen so fast?"  
  
"It just happens this way," Quatre smiled. "Don't worry. I understand. Though…I can't really see why, me."  
  
Smiling a little, Wufei retorted, "Why not?"  
  
Blushing self-consciously, Quatre decided to change the conversation. "It's almost winter…yet it's still warm out…"  
  
**  
  
"Something has been bothering you," Heero observed blandly, glancing a couple of times over the mini novellas of new information they'd received earlier the other day. Trowa seemed a little disinterested staring out the small window he'd made through two fingers width's space of tent wall stitching. He didn't even seem to notice the other talking, "Has he gotten to you that much?"  
  
After a long pause, Trowa's smooth, flat voice pierced the stale silence. "The first night we brought him here, he said that he was the son of a merchant."  
  
"Yes," Heero urged starting to understand where the conversation was headed.  
  
"So, why does the son of a merchant know himself simply as Quatre? It doesn't make sense," Trowa concluded.  
  
"I agree," Heero said, then added, "But, that's not what is really bothering you."  
  
That made Trowa turn around and fix his friend with a look severe enough to silence even the most talkative of half-wits though it proved more often than not ineffective on those that he knew well.  
  
Unfazed, Heero threw a particularly thick book at his taller counterpart who caught it reflexively and seemed to understand the peacemaking purpose behind the action.  
  
"Are they moving yet?" Trowa asked thumbing through the worn pages of hand writ intelligence half-interestedly.  
  
"I don't know," Heero replied bemusedly. "That's perhaps why I tossed you the other journal."  
  
**  
  
The night was stagnant save for a few soft whispers. The heavy scent of stew cooking through to morning filled the valley encampment. It smelled of pungent and peppery spices, almost thick enough to taste.  
  
"I'm afraid. . . actually," Quatre whispered to his slumbering master. "I don't miss my family. . . not really. I've thought many times of what I should do. I ought to do a number of things. . . " He began to preoccupy himself with his hands, clasping his fingers together in the darkness. Though it was as light as underground in the tent, he could see his skin dimly. "I've thought that I should run away when no one is watching over me. I should try to make some sign to the outside world that I'm here. . .I should kill you in your sleep. . ? But I can't bring myself to do any of these." Feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, he stared into the gloom where his master lay. " It's embarrassing, but I think I harbor feelings. . . feelings I shouldn't have. . . I don't know, really. Maybe it's just the change of scenery. I've felt strange ever since I was taken here. Like there is something very important in this arid land, but I can't figure it out." He took a moment to think and them smiled at himself. "It seems that I enjoy confiding in shadows, hmm? For all we know each other, you might as well be one. It's kind of sad if I do end up staying here, if we do end up spending the rest of our lives together that it'll simply be this: 'Is that all master?' from me and a 'Hmph' from you day in, day out until we die. Do you want me to teach you kindness? . .What a foolish thing to ask, right?" Quatre crawled over to his mat barely making a sound and slid under the heavy sheets. "Goodnight Trowa. Sweet dreams."  
  
**  
  
The morning passed idly. Over the past few days, Heero found himself with more and more work to cover, but he didn't really feel the need to protest to Trowa since he had a feeling that he was dealing with some heavy baggage of his own. As of late, the tall one had taken to a curious sort of inertia even when it came to such pressing issues like the daily intelligence.  
  
His question came almost as a shock to Heero in the still room. "How did you secure Duo for yourself?"  
  
"I don't know," Heero replied with faint interest, but didn't let on in his tone. "Why do you ask?"  
  
No reply. Feeling a little uncharacteristically sympathetic, he decided to divulge a little of what he did know. "It was a little strange when we first 'found each other.' Before that, it was a constant struggle. You remember. . . I digress, the problems I encountered with him, you'll never see with Quatre. He's a rare one. He's kind and obedient. . . don't take that for granted. My best advice to you is: listen to your emotions. And, gestures of kindness are hard to forget, but one stray fist in a fit of anger is never forgotten." He almost smiled at Trowa's unconscious wince at the last statement before he added, "You're doing fine."  
  
Trowa nodded and reached for a booklet to busy himself with.  
  
**  
  
Another few weeks passed lazily. Wufei and Quatre spent more and more time together doing anything from joint chores to reading to each other. Trowa, still somewhat unsure of himself had not the mind to make any real sense of what Heero had told him earlier. His emotions weren't telling him anything.  
  
Duo typically spent the morning doing his chores with everyone else and then wandering off after a while to go catch up on old lady gossip.  
  
Quatre had barely a moment to himself, and only had the time to worry about his appearance. So, he'd made a habit of bathing any time he got the chance. The grit and filth of living out in a tiny desert oasis seemed to permeate everything, even the meager food he ate. His nightly talks with Trowa's slumbering form became more idle and childish as his visions and dreams seemed never to change.  
  
In the safety of the clear waters of the bathing pool, Quatre would think to himself. There he tried to see things, tried to send his spirit to see Khadmir and the state it was in. All efforts, however, proved in vain when all he received was static from all directions. As habitual excuse for his lack of psychic power, he admonished himself that perhaps he wasn't trying hard enough, which led to further criticism until he'd just give up on himself.  
  
On one of his excursions to the bathing pool, he got a strange feeling but paid no mind to it.  
  
He stripped down into his undergarments and waded into the water. The material of his clothing moved around him like a breathing animal. When he was submerged up to his hips, it struck him. A frightening assault of images like phantoms played out within the irises of his eyes.  
  
Storm clouds parted revealing two white towers and panned out into a palace too fleeting to describe before it zoomed back in through a fountain spout, through tunnels into a crypt, up through the floor into a grand ballroom, up into elegant bedchambers, lingering there and moment before once again plummeting through the floor ending up in a temple of sorts. There was a raised platform reachable by an intricate spiral stair that seemed to grow up from the ground. Atop the platform, the moving stopped, and coins began pouring down from nowhere like rain.  
  
**  
  
Trowa and Heero wandered around aimlessly for a while after finding no significant information in the daily report. It was sometime around noon with the air almost balmy instead of scorching. Trowa felt it was a perfect time for paying a visit to the bathing pool, though Heero disagreed and only committed himself to playing bodyguard for a while. For some reason, Trowa seemed uncharacteristically cautious and light on his feet as they made their way through thickening brush towards the pond. When they reached their destination, it was apparent why. It was an amazing spectacle. Quatre stood stationary in the middle of the water. Golden coins winked in the sunlight as they fell seemingly in so motion and in profusion disappearing into smoke when they struck the earth or stirred the surface of the water. Quatre had always emitted a strange feeling, but this was ridiculous.  
  
When he regained control of his motor systems, Trowa rushed forward massacring the vegetation in his path. Heero followed close behind trying to rationalize or completely ignore the phenomena all together. Once at the pond's edge, Trowa called out to Quatre, and when he got no response, stepped into the tepid water.  
  
All at once, the illusion ceased, and coins that were as palpable as dreams only moments before became hard and pelted the ground with their last vestiges of life.  
  
As if cut from invisible strings, Quatre collapsed into the water. In an instant, Trowa was there lifting him out. The blond youth's skin was becoming cool quickly, and a light frost was beginning to cling to his hair. It was almost as if he were freezing from the outside in, his breath was still a little warm.  
  
"Heero!" Trowa nearly cried holding Quatre close. The first real bits of feeling tinged his voice was he reached the bank. "Give me your cloak," he ordered stripping Quatre of his hardening clothes. They made crunching and popping sounds as they were broken apart sending little ice flurries this way and that.  
  
Completely mystified, Heero complied as Trowa bundled his little one up until only his face was visible through the many folds of dark fabric.  
  
"Go to my tent and amass all the blankets and furs you can find. I'll be there shortly with Quatre," Trowa said gathering the blonde's slight form up in his arms.  
  
Heero nodded and ran ahead with Trowa following behind.  
  
**  
  
Wufei was making a type of maize by the side of his tent taking advantage of the quiet of the afternoon when the bizarre procession ran by. First, Heero like a living shadow flew by, a few coins dropped in the dust in his wake. More curious about the coin rather than Heero's sprint, Wufei stooped to pick one up. It was strange like nothing he'd ever seen before. Carved into the center was a simple mask sprouting more complex designs of vines and peacock feathers. A mysterious writing was engraved along the rim. Though the money was alien, it was also strangely familiar. Before he could give it further thought, fast footsteps alerted him to another approaching individual. It actually surprised him to see Trowa running the same path Heero had only a minute before clutching a large cobalt colored bundle to his chest. He did not show that he'd even noticed Wufei as he passed by.  
  
For the first time in a long while, Wufei had questions to ask the enigmatic pair he'd all but ignored for the last few years.  
  
**  
  
"Lay him down," Heero said as Trowa entered. The rustle of comforters and sheets could be heard coming from the nether regions of the tent. Seeing a few furs laid out on his bed, Trowa obediently set Quatre down upon them. Then he began to strip himself down acting almost purely without thought, something deep within the back of his mind told him that body heat would warm faster and better than layers and layers of sheets.  
  
Normally, at the sight of two scantily clad people near a bed, Heero would have backed away. However, circumstances were slightly altered at present.  
  
"Remembering?" he asked over an armful of fabric.  
  
Trowa shook his head and took the offered armload. "It's all instinct," then he felt a little inadequate as he formed his next sentence. "Leave me alone with him now. . .go gather what we left. This is purely between us."  
  
"Understood," Heero replied and disappeared through the door hangings.  
  
Satisfied that they were alone, Trowa laid down next to Quatre pulling blanket after blanket over them. The blond had begun to frost, and it was painful to even touch him. Damning all discomfort, Trowa pressed his warm skin to Quatre's frozen body. Odd feelings of familiarity began to overcome him, but he hastily extinguished them from his mind. People like him were not supposed to feel.  
  
Ghostly whispers of, "I love you. . . my little one. . . "  
  
**  
  
"He hit me! The little bastard!" the tallest one exclaimed prodding the limp body with the butt of his staff.  
  
"You hit him right back," one of the two others reminded him amusedly.  
  
"We'll take him back to camp. My lass has been waiting for a servant for some time now. Figured I'd get one offa that run down gypsy caravan for cheap. . . He hardly looks worth what I paid for, though," the man with one eye, the other scarred over, said appraisingly.  
  
"Next one we get, it'll be free," the tallest man agreed while hoisting the spindly boy over his shoulder.  
  
"Are you suggesting that we become some sort of a pack of bandits?" the shortest man laughed.  
  
"Maybe I am."  
  
**  
  
Trowa woke blinking profusely, blurring the memory away. He felt the dead weight of Quatre in his arms and tightened his hold a little. It was almost like being immersed in steam under all the layers and layers of blankets. Quatre had warmed up again, his chest rising slowly but steadily under the gentle pressure of Trowa's hands.  
  
Deciding not to traumatize him when he awoke, Trowa carefully made his way out of the cocoon of furs and blankets. Dutifully, he stripped a few off the still slumbering form on the bed to prevent him from overheating.  
  
"No more confiding in shadows," he whispered. ". . .at least with this."  
  
**  
  
Heero crouched by the bathing pool with the last of the coins in his hand, the others having been safely tucked away in his canteen pouch. Night had crept up upon him like some sort of a giant beast, light out one moment and hooded with darkness, the next.  
  
He reclined against a rock staring at the face of the coin. It looked completely new, flawless, and with such a luster as to flash brightly in the dark like firelight. How could it have materialized out of thin air, let alone the thousands of them that had rained down that afternoon? That only gave way to more questions. 


End file.
